


Sorry

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm just so, so sorry... I couldn't resist it - ahead there be puns...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

Napoleon Solo ran a hand through his hair and blew out a mouthful of air.  For the last three nights, he’d been struggling with recurring dreams.  In the first one, he looked down out a Plains Indian tribe, the teepee of the tribal chief.  The tribe was at war and in the chaos and the fighting, Napoleon was suddenly set on fire.  He couldn’t scream for he had no voice.  Inside, he would wake, sitting upright in bed, trembling in the dark.

He would manage to get back to sleep, only to find himself an Algonquin wigwam tucked deep in the woods.  The air was cool and crisp.  At first it was pleasant and a welcomed change from the first dream.  Then abruptly, he was being torn apart, ripped from the poles like flesh from bones.  He woke, limp and panting.

Night after night, this happened until Napoleon couldn’t take it any longer.  He was moody and snapped incessantly at Illya until Illya pulled a field assignment.

Napoleon knew Illya was concerned, but also annoyed with Napoleon’s behavior.    He made an appointment with UNCLE’s top psychiatrist and now sat outside his office, staring at a magazine without seeing it.

“Mr. Solo, Dr. Lungren will see you now.”  Napoleon almost jumped as the nurse spoke with him and then got to his feet with an apologetic smile.

To his credit, Dr. Lungren listened to Napoleon’s story, stopping him to clarify this point or that.

“You have to help me, Doc.  I think I’m going crazy.”

“Mr. Solo, you are not going crazy.  Your dreams make perfect sense to me.”

“They do?”

“They do to a trained professional like me.  You’re two tents.”

 

 


End file.
